De-Ciphering The Truth
After that wonderful little tete-a-tete with Cipher in Kolkular, Feint has decided to settle this matter (she hopes) once and for all. Having sent a message to Cipher that she wishes to meet him in private to discuss Blurr, she is on her way to the IAA headquarters to find him. For once, she will not take no for an answer. Cipher didn't appear reluctant at all to speak to her, actually, so she needn't have worried about him refusing to see her. She is fully welcome to walk into his office at the IAA now--he's been expecting her. Feint arrives at the appointed time, punctual if nothing else, and knocks on the door to Cipher's office, waiting to be let in. She takes the small precaution of looking past the door with her unusual sight to see what is waiting for her on the other side, looking for recording or monitoring devices, weapons or individuals other than Cipher. It seems the coast is clear, there appears to be no one else in the office besides Cipher. He looks up, and the door slides open to let her in. "Feint," he says, smiling politely. He gestures toward a seat in front of the desk. "Please, make yourself comfortable." "Thank you Mister Cipher," she says politely, having a seat, folding her hands in her lap. "I'll not insult your intelligence by playing games. You and I both know why I am here, and I'd like to simply get down to business if that is all right with you." Cipher sighs slightly, and glances briefly down at his desk. "Well, I realize it's about Blurr, but what is it about him in particular that is causing you concern? Is your relationship not going well?" he inquires. "Do you need me to convince him of something?" "What I want to know is what you intend to make out of him. You've altered his mind; his memories are compressed and now he's injecting neurotoxins. There is something being programmed into him - believe me, I've seen every facet of his mind, there is no getting around that he's been damaged and altered," Feint states. "I'm tired of the games, the lying, the manipulation, the secrets. All I want is what I asked his creator before hand, and what no one seems to want to give me: The truth. I don't care what that truth -is-, I just want to know it." "Feint," Cipher pauses, his optics falling for a moment. He sighs again. Now that she's part of Halogen's posse, he can't exactly tell her 'no'. "All right, all right. I'll tell you everything you want to know..." Another pause, and he shakes his head, as if not sure where to begin. "Well, what hasn't he already told you? I..imagine you've already interfaced with him, is that not accurate?" "It's accurate," she says with no shyness or embarrassment. "That's how I found the damage in the first place. Now there's something else there, an overlaid set of instructions that frankly would have wrecked my own neural network if it had crossed over." She sighs as well. "I just want him to be safe and well - not constantly compressed and erased and tailored like a piece of Yussian fabric. No one ever told me what the -point- of all this was, why he was being singled out and experimented on like this. When I tried to ask his creator what was going on, he attempted to -murder- me." She draws her hands up, arms on armrests, and places her fingertips together in front of her face. "I'm willing to be very flexible and even -helpful- in your endeavors if I can just keep Blurr healthy and sane." "I assume that attempt didn't go well for him." Cipher says flatly. There's another pause, and he shuffles through some files in search of the appropriate information. Finding it, he finally continues. "All right, I suppose I'll start at the beginning. About fifteen meta-cycles ago, my predecessor, Axle and his research division dreamed of creating the perfect racer. Someone whose body could not only move incredibly fast but whose mind could also keep -up- with such rapid movement. See, both elements are essential, because if your brain can't process obstacles faster than they are coming at you, you will inevitability crash into them. Axle and his team thought they had come up with a way to create such a mind, they only needed access to a hotspot to make their dream a reality--after all, a drone has no appeal to the crowds." "So, as you might imagine, Axle used his vast financial resources to make a deal with the Senate. They would grant him access to a hotspot once, so that he could harvest a spark for this project of his, and in exchange, he would have to give them the final say on whatever the experiment happened to produce. He'd also have to share all the research data and technical specifications he generated, along with any other information they decide to request." "No. No it didn't go well for him at all," Feint says dryly with a little smirk. She then sits back and listens to Cipher explain the situation; things are falling into place and the picture is getting clearer. She nods in understanding. "I'm surprised there are any hotspots left at all; new sparks are kind of a rarity these days. The one I came from was one of the last productive ones before Blaster City was obliterated." "All too true." Cipher nods. "Which is precisely why the Senate's...terms where so stringent. They insisted that none of the information regarding that agreement was to leak to the public, which is why, I assume, he attempted to murder you when you demanded to know the truth. You knew too much, and he feared that if the Senate learned of it, they would kill him and permenantly confiscate his...prize." "Blurr certainly threw a monkey wrench into things when he decided to save me, didn't he?" Feint muses. "Solvent had purchased me for similar medical experimentation, and Blurr gave him an offer he couldn't refuse... I was just so grateful to Blurr that I wanted to help him and repay him somehow; I didn't expect things to move as they did, but when he asked me to bond with him I had no idea he was as young as he was." She rubs her face, frustrated. "I would have gladly assisted him if only he'd have been willing to reason with me. I'm assuming the Senate wants him as a soldier now; he keeps saying that's what he's become, that he has to 'fight the terrorists'." "Well it certainly seems like something they would want. He is very unique. There is no one else on the planet quite like him. Of course, there are some aerial mechs who can fly faster than that, but they can't think or move as quickly as he can on the ground. He makes an excellent intelligence operative, as you can imagine." Cipher chuckles slightly at the wrench comment. "Yes...and not only that, but originally he was thought to be a failure. At first he couldn't even speak properly, nor keep his attention focused on a single thing for much longer than a few breems." Originally, Feint was thought to be a borderline retarded mute, but hey, look at how far we've come. "His sensors were adapted to speed, as was his processor. Of course he wouldn't be able to speak properly or pay attention. Everyone else is in slow motion," she states. How could they have missed something so obvious? To her anyways, she's something of an expert on sensors. "Is there any way to undo his mental compression and let him have back the memories he's lost, or is that going to be too risky?" "Most of the compressed data has already been restored to its former state, however, there were a few things that were erased permanently." Cipher replies. "I'm afraid there is no way to restore those. That I know of. But then again, I don't know of anyone else like him, either. When he was first created, the research team thought he was a lost cause, that there was no way he'd ever be able to function properly in society. But, they were wrong then. And I could be wrong now." he shrugs. "And the coding about making sacrifices for the greater good?" Feint asks. "..." Cipher sighs. Oh, that. "It's...to ensure that emotional outbursts don't compromise anything important. I'll have you know, Feint. Blurr agreed--in fact, insisted on it himself." "I certainly hope you're not lying to me, because I will say it until I am even more blue in the face than I am naturally: I'm willing to help you and your associates achieve your goals with Blurr," the fembot says, no-nonsense. "An endura has a significant influence. I believe it's plausible that Blurr is young and naive enough to request such a thing be done. And the neurotoxin he's injecting himself with now?" Cipher rubs his face. It was really hard to keep things from her... "The program is a prototype, it's easily overwhelmed by strong emotions, causing it to become unreliable. The toxins are to suppress those emotions in order to ensure that it is able to do its job whenever necessary. Don't worry, it's a low dose, enough to do what he needs and no more. I'm sure you've noticed that he's been less prone to overreaction lately, which is a benefit to you, even." "He's a -boy-. He needs time to grow and mature, and in that process he is most easily shaped and molded. If he comes to realize what's been done to him he will lash out at you and everyone connected to this, and with his speed and abilities he will be completely and totally out of hand. Let me posit something to you, Mister Cipher, sir: Traditional training is far less traumatic and more permanent than any of this. If he internalizes and believes what he has been taught, it will be a part of him forever; he will believe he decided it, he will agree with it and he will never question it. Traumatic personality adjustments are too abrupt and have the potential to backfire in unexpected ways," Feint states. There's a startling amount of insight and disturbing knowledge of manipulation already in her suggestion. Cipher's optic ridges go up slightly. "I wouldn't call this personality adjustment. It's simply a failsafe mechanism to prevent catastrophe that might endanger his own life as well as others'. With the growing unrest in Kaon and other locales, the need for skilled soldiers to keep the peace is paramount. We've explained that to him thoroughly; he both understands and agrees to it. He -wants- it, because it gives him a renewed sense of purpose. As much as you seem to want to believe otherwise, Feint, your endura has chosen this path for himself. No one has forced anything on him." Feint sits back in her chair and shutters her optics. "Since when has choice entered into the picture of our society? Form dictates function dictates fate. Since when is a racer allowed to choose to no longer be a racer?" "Not always, but sometimes." Cipher replies, shrugging. "However that doesn't change the fact that Blurr has chosen this for himself. He believes that this is the only way to make sure he is at his best for the sake of the security of Cybertron. He is very...determined to do whatever it takes to make sure criminals and violent dissidents are brought to justice before they can do too much damage. If you're worried about it, then I suggest you bring your concerns to -him-." "All I wanted to know was the truth and what was behind all of the alterations," Feint smiles. "If that's all there is to it, then I'm happy to help both you and him achieve his objectives." She rises from her chair and offers Cipher her hand. "Thank you very much for your time, sir, and I apologize for imposing myself on you in this way." Cipher also stands to shake her hand. "Of course. Well I'm glad you took that rather well...I was concerned that you wouldn't like the truth. But it is what it is." "I just want Blurr to be happy in what he does - what endura wouldn't? I'd much rather stay out of the picture as a supporter and servant than anything else," Feint admits cheerfully. "If you need any help, let me know. I'll do what I can." "Oh, he's certainly happy." Cipher assures her. "Even more so than before. He always wanted something more than serving up entertainment." He nods. "Thank you for your offer, I will certainly let you know if there is anything you can do to help." Feint takes all of this as a -potential- truth, leaving plenty of room to believe this is one big lie. "I'll be on my way then. My life has become far busier than I ever dreamed." She excuses herself and leaves Cipher's office. Now it's simply a matter of getting Blurr to be straight with her as well, and checking in on the facts from time to time. "Things are changing," she sighs to herself as she enters a private transport, headed off to further lessons and political debriefings. She hopes that at least when it comes to sweet blue speed demon, at least -something- will remain the same. Cipher watches her go, feeling a bit uncertain and therefore uneasy. She -seemed- to have taken it well...and it was certainly at least a partial truth. Of course he'd neglected to mention that every experiment has the potential to go horribly awry. But hopefully she won't stick her servos in -too- far, after all last time she tried, she allegedly almost wrecked her own neural systems--she was a nice fembot, that would really be a shame, wouldn't it?